A True Story That Will Touch Your Heart....

Written by: David Giannelli


I am a New York City fireman. Being a firefighter has its grim side. When someone's business or home is destroyed, it can break your heart. You see a lot of terror and sometimes even death. But the day I found Scarlett was different. That was a day about life. And Love.

It was a Friday, we had responded to an early morning alarm in Brooklyn at a burning Garage. As I was getting my gear on, I heard the sounds of cats crying. I couldn't stop - I would have to look for the cats after the fire was put out.
This was a large fire, so there was other hook and ladder companies there as well. We had been told that everyone in the building had made it out safely. I sure hoped so - the entire garage was filled with flames, and it would have been futile for anyone to attempt a rescue anyway. It took a long time and many firefighters to finally bring the enormous blaze under control.
At that point I was free to investigate the cat noises, which I still heard. There continued to be a tremendous amount of smoke and heat coming from the building. I couldn't see much, but I followed the meowing to a spot on the sidewalk about five feet from the front of the garage. There, crying and huddled together, were three terrified little kittens. Then I found two more, one in the street and one across the street.
They must have been in the building, as their fur was badly singed. I yelled for a box and out of the crowd around me one appeared. Putting the five kittens in the box, I carried them to a neighboring house.
I started looking around for a mother cat. It was obvious that the mother had gone into that burning garage and carried each of her babies one by one out to the sidewalk.
Five separate trips into that raging heat and deadly smoke- it was hard to imagine. Then she had attempted to get them across the street and away from the building, again, one at a time. But she hadn't been able to finish the job. What happened to her?
A cop told me he had seen a cat go into a vacant lot near where I had found the last two kittens. She was there, lying down and crying. She was horribly burnt: her eyes were blistered shut, her paws were blackened and her fur was singed all over her body. In some places you could see her reddened skin showing through her burned fur. She was too weak to move anymore. I went over to her slowly, talking gently as I approached. I figured that she was a wild cat and didn't want to alarm her. When I picked her up she cried out in pain, but didn't struggle. The poor animal reeked of burnt fur and flesh. She gave me a look of utter exhaustion and then relaxed in my arms as much as her pain would allow.
Sensing her trust in me, I felt my throat tighten and the tears start in my eyes. I was determined to save this brave little cat and her family. Their lives were literally in my hands.
I put the cat in the box with the meowing kittens. Even in her pathetic condition, the blinded mother circled in the box and touched each kitten with her nose, one by one, to make sure they were all there and safe. She was content, in spite of her pain, now that she was sure the kittens were all accounted for.
These cats obviously needed immediate medical care. I thought of a very special animal shelter out on Long Island, North Shore Animal League, where I had taken a severely burned dog I had rescued eleven years earlier. If anyone could help, they could.
I called to alert the Animal League that I was on my way with a badly burned cat and her kittens. Still in my smoke-stained fire gear, I drove my truck there as fast as I could. When I pulled into the driveway I saw two teams of vets and technicians standing in the parking lot waiting for me. They whisked the cats into the treatment room - the mother on a table with one vet team and all the kittens on another table with the second team.
Utterly exhausted from fighting the fire, I stood there in the treatment room, keeping out of the way. I didn't have much hope that these cats would survive. But somehow, I couldn't leave them. After a long wait, the vets told me they would observe the kittens and their mother overnight, but they weren't optimistic about the mother's chance for survival.
I returned the next day and waited and waited. I was about to completely give up hope when the vets finally came over to me. They had good news - the kittens would survive. "And the mother?” I asked I was afraid to hear the reply. It was still too early to know. I came back every day and each day it was the sane thing: they just didn't know. About a week after the fire I returned to the shelter in a bleak mood, thinking, surely, if the mother cat was going to make it she would have come around by now. How much longer could she hover between life and death?
But when I walked in the door the vets greeted me with big smiles and gave me the thumbs up sign! Not only was she going to be all right - in time she'd even be able to see again.
Now that she was going to live, she needs a name. One of the technicians came up with Scarlett because of her reddened skin.

Knowing what Scarlett had endured for her kittens, it melted my heart to see her reunited with them. And what did mama do first? Another head count! She touched each kitten again; nose to nose to be sure they were all still safe and sound. She had risked her life, not once, but five times - and it had paid off. All of her babies had survived.

As a firefighter, I see heroism every day. But what Scarlett showed me that day was beyond heroism - the kind of bravery that comes only with a mother's love.

See photos of Scarlett and her kittens











In Memory of my own little mama cat
who I lost one week ago today
March 15, 2009

Aurora....Always the Mother